


Learning Curve

by FuckMeGentlyWithAChainsaw



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Domesticity, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Moving In Together, Post-Canon, Season 2, Victor is an old man and he'll never admit it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:16:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuckMeGentlyWithAChainsaw/pseuds/FuckMeGentlyWithAChainsaw
Summary: Training in St. Petersburg poses unique challenges for Yuuri and Victor. Living together, maintaining a healthy adult relationship, and vying for the same gold medal pose unique challenges as well.





	1. Day One

     Yuuri knew that living with Victor in St. Petersburg would be different than living with him in Hasetsu or sharing a hotel room for a few days at a time during competitions. They’d be largely confined to Victor’s apartment, for one, instead of having the whole inn and the onsen at their disposal. They’d probably spend more time there than they ever did at hotels. They’d certainly share a bed, even though Yuuri had been promised the spacious guest room. Once he arrived however, he began to suspect that offer had more to do with all the potential storage space in the master bedroom being efficiently and impressively full.

  
     By the end of last season they spent more time together than apart. They practically shared Victor’s room. They went everywhere together. He stopped pulling away from Victor’s touch and Victor started tacking моя любовь, my love, onto every other exchange. For once neither of them was beholden to the ice. Their only responsibility was to each other, and the rink became somewhere to play instead of somewhere to work. Of course, that couldn’t last. Yuuko affectionately referred to it as their “honeymoon period” and Yuuri was inclined to agree. Of course, soon enough pre-season was approaching and it was time to start training again. And, as they’d discussed after Yuuri’s silver at the GPF, they would re-locate to St. Petersburg so that Victor could train under Yakov while he was coaching Yuuri. They both knew that it would be difficult. Really difficult. And, as Yuuri discovered with Phichit in Detroit, living in the same building with someone and occasionally spending the night didn’t expose the quirks that living with someone so domestically often did. Yuuri had known this logically, of course. In reality, he and Victor had gotten off to a bit of a rough start.

     He arrived at the airport in St. Petersburg after too many hours of travel feeling sticky with stale sweat and the general “ick” that comes with prolonged travel. Victor didn’t notice of course, or rather, didn’t mention it as he swept him off his feet in a dramatic hug before quickly stepping away. They were in Russia after all.

  
     “I missed you.” He said, helping to load his bags into the back of a cab. “Makkachin did to. I had to leave her at home though, I sold my car before I left for Hasetsu and I haven’t gotten another one yet and I know she would be too excited to see you to behave in the cab.”  
Yuuri smiled, “I missed you too.” He grabbed Victor’s hand with his own under the cover of his backpack which he set between them.

  
     Victor welcomed him properly once they got back to his apartment, the door slamming behind them as Victor dropped his bags, took his backpack off his shoulder and pulled him into a deep, warm kiss that made his brain fuzzy and tore away the heavy weight that had been sitting deep in his chest ever since he saw Victor off at the Fukuoka airport over a month ago. He didn’t have time to take off his shoes as Victor gently pushed him further into the apartment and he felt the cold metal of Victor’s ring brush against his jaw before the taller man pulled back.

  
     “I missed you.” He said again.

  
     Yuuri smiled and leaned into his shoulder, “If this is how you’re going to greet me, I might have to stay away more often.” Victor pulled him impossibly closer with a dramatic groan.

  
     “I would let you go to discourage this silly plan of yours but…” He trailed off and Yuuri felt him smile against his bare neck as he he nuzzled his way under the collar of his overcoat.

  
     “Will you let me go so I can pick up my things?” Yuuri asked, dipping his head to kiss Victor on the cheek.

  
Victor whined but pulled back, “I’ll start dinner, you must be starving.”

     By “start dinner” Victor, predictably meant that he’d be heating up takeout. He lit candles and set the table with what appeared to be very nice china. He had two glasses out and a bottle of wine set between the plates as he scooped some combination of noodles and vegetables onto each plate by the time Yuuri returned from unpacking a few days’ worth of things and carefully fitting them in between Victor’s overflow storage in the guest room.

  
     “Done already?” Victor asked.

  
     “With what I can manage for now.” He said, “Mari should be shipping the rest of my things soon.” He sat down at the small dining table that he was sure Victor hardly used, admiring the strange light fixtures that decorated the kitchen.

  
     “I know the lights are a bit much,” Victor said, catching his gaze. “It’s dark here a lot, especially in the winter. The lights help.”

  
     Yuuri nodded, it made sense, “I like them,” he decided. At least this explained why Victor insisted on having so many lamps in his room at the inn.

  
     They talked regularly during the month they were apart. They texted, video chatted. They talked on the phone every night before bed. They arranged their schedules to account for the time difference. Even so, finally together, they talked about all of it over again: about how Yurio was doing, Yukko and the triplets, the upcoming season. They held hands across the table as they ate, their fingers loosely intertwined. In that moment, Yuuri thought that maybe their “honeymoon period” would follow them to St. Petersburg. Then Victor finished his dinner, and it became abruptly clear that it hadn’t.

     He set his disposable wooden chopsticks on the table and placed his dish on the floor. Makkachin, of course, was delighted and quickly inhaled the few vegetables left on the plate before licking the plate clean of leftover sauce with hurried, broad streaks of her tongue. Yuuri, was considerably less excited than she was.

  
     “You let her lick the dishes?” He asked, failing to hide his grimace.

  
     Victor shrugged, “Of course, it makes her so happy. Plus, it saves me the hassle of washing them.”

  
     Yuuri stared at him blankly, “You don’t wash them?”

  
     “Why would I,” he bent over to pick to the plate off the ground, “see, perfectly clean.”

  
     Yuuri didn’t hide his disgust as he set his fork down. He’d seen Victor offer Makkachin some bits of his meal under the table at the inn, but this was…new. Yuuri took a breath. If he panicked now, there really was no hope for them at all. He nervously turned the gold ring on his finger before pushing his chair back and taking their plates to the sink.

  
     “Okay, please wash the dishes from now on?” He asked, rinsing off his own dish and opening the dishwasher and setting it in the bottom rack. He set Victor’s in next to it and briefly looked around for the dish detergent. When he asked where it might be Victor shrugged.

  
     “I might be out, I think.” He flushed slightly, finally looked a little embarrassed. “We could go to the store—we should go to the store.”

  
     Yuuri nodded quickly, “make a list first so we know what we need to get.” Victor nodded and pulled out his phone, quickly typing a few things before deleting it all and retyping it in English and handing it to Yuuri.

  
     “Can you think of anything else?”

  
     Yuuri looked over it, “please tell me you haven’t been out of laundry detergent for long.”

  
     Victor’s eyes flickered down before he looked back up, a fake smile plastered on his face, “I haven’t been out of laundry detergent for long?” It sounded distinctly like a question. Yuuri groaned. “I told you I needed you, Yuuri, I meant it. I can’t live on my own anymore.”

     Yuuri handed Victor his phone back, “Is that why you invited me here? Because you got spoiled with me in Japan?”

  
     Victor shook his head, “No, no, Yuuri of course not. I love you. I don’t just need you to help me with dishes you know.”

  
     Yuuri shoved him playfully, “You invited me to live with you for sex, then?”

  
     Victor pulled him into a hug, “Of course not, моя любовь.” He paused and smiled, “I invited you to help me with dishes and for sex.”

  
     Yuuri laughed and pulled away, “You can go to the store on your own.” Victor pouted and tried to pull him in for another hug.

  
     “I love you Yuuri. I always want to be with you, even if all you do is sleep here and skate. Or don’t skate. I’ll always love you.”

  
     Yuuri smiled, amused that Victor had suddenly become so sincere in the middle of their playful argument. “Go to the store then. I think I need to be alone for a little bit anyway.”  
Victor nodded, “of course, Yuuri.” He showed him where the shower was and how to use it. Where the towels were and assured him that he could do anything he liked, anywhere he liked. Yuuri noted that he was especially on top of quelling his Anxious ThoughtsTM before he even got the chance to get worked up over them. He was prepared, Yuuri realized, and that set his heart racing in the best way. “I’ll be home soon.” Victor said and kissed him goodbye.

  
     Yuuri took a breath as the door closed behind him and Makkachin returned from seeing Victor out. “Show me around, Makka?”

     When Victor returned he was stepping out of the steaming bathroom with one incredibly soft, luxuriously plush black towel wrapped around his waist, his skin flushed red from the heat and his hair still damp. He heard Victor wolf-whistle from the doorway of the master bedroom. “I’ll have to go shopping alone more often.” He said.

     “I’ll have to go shopping alone more often.” He said.

  
     Yuuri pulled off the smaller towel hanging around his neck and chucked it at the taller man. Still, Victor smiled and followed Yuuri into the guest bedroom where his luggage was, leaning in the doorway.

  
     “Are you better now that you’ve showered?” He asked. “Are you tired?”

  
     Yuuri nodded, “Yes to both. Did you get everything on the list?”

  
     Victor nodded, “Everything and some groceries so that we don’t have to order in every night.”

  
     “Good” Yuuri said, pulling on a pair of pajama pants that he’d left folded on Victor’s dresser. “Bed?”

  
     Victor nodded, “I need to work on Yurio’s choreography for a bit, but I promise I’ll come to bed soon.”

  
     Yuuri nodded and crawled into Victor’s incredibly comfortable bed. He sank into the mattress as Victor kept talking, but he couldn’t hear a word over the feeling of soft cotton sheets brushing against his bare back and the way the feather filled pillows conformed to the shape of his head and neck.

     At some point he must’ve fallen asleep because it felt like no time at all before he opened his eyes to complete darkness as the mattress sank next to him.

  
     “Victor,” He mumbled, reaching his arm out until he found the other man.

  
     “Did I wake you?” He asked. Yuuri mumbled a no and let Victor pull him closer. “Liar.”

  
     “How’s Yurio’s free skate coming?”

  
     “Good, I think,” Victor said, trailing long fingers up and down the length of Yuuri’s torso.

     “It’s not as difficult as some of his previous programs but he’s in the middle of a growth spurt so I don’t want to ask too much of him for now.”

  
     Yuuri smiled lazily into his chest, “He’ll be angry.”

  
     “He’s always angry. If he can show me that he can do better I’ll change it for him, of course.”

  
      There was a moment of silence between them before Yuuri spoke again, “and what about your programs?”

  
     Victor squeezed his shoulder and intertwined their fingers. “I don’t know yet. Go to sleep, моя любовь. You’ve had a long day.”

  
     Yuuri nodded and yawned, comfortable and warm and so close to sleep. Then he felt two sizable chunks of ice slide up his ankle. The cold was so jarring that he jumped. Victor looked up, confused. “What?”

  
     “Victor, your feet are freezing,” Yuuri said. He regretted his reaction immediately. If he’d stealthily moved away Victor never would have attacked him the way that he did.

  
     “Oh?” He smiled a wicked, mischievous smile before capturing his legs between his impossibly cold feet, wiggling his toes as he pushed up Yuuri’s pajama pants to make sure he made contact with his skin.

  
     Yuuri scrambled to escape, “Victor, stop. I swear—put socks on or I’ll sleep in the other bedroom.”

     Victor froze, “don’t leave, Yuuri.” He begged.

  
      “Socks,” Yuuri ordered, pulling his legs up to his chest to get warm again as Victor slipped out from under the covers.

  
     He returned with socks after a few moments, curling into Yuuri as soon as he got back into bed. “Better?”

  
     Yuuri sighed and nodded.

  
     “Good,” Victor said and, after a moment, “I’m glad you’re here with me, Yuuri.”

  
       Yuuri looked into the darkness of the bedroom. “I’m glad that I’m here too. Even if you do have cold feet when you don’t wear slippers around the house.”  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Victor lied, “go to sleep."

      After several months of relatively lazy mornings, dragging themselves out of bed close to noon, waking each other up with slow, gentle kisses, the shock of waking up at 5am for practice was completely unwelcome. Yuuri’s alarm went off first. Chimes rang through the room and the buzz of the vibration under his pillow rudely pulled him out of a comfortable sleep. Victor moaned and rolled away from him in response.

  
     “We have to get up, Vitya,” Yuuri said, stretching his arm out to reach for the other man.

  
     “немного дольше” He mumbled into his pillow.

  
     “What?” Yuuri rolled onto his side to lean his forehead against Victor’s bare shoulder.

  
     “A little longer,” Victor said again.

  
     “Fine,” Yuuri replied, “but I’m going to take a shower now, so…” Victor rolled onto his back to look at him, his eyes still drowsy, but clearly conflicted, even in the dim light of newly breaking dawn. He made his choice and wrapped on arm around Yuuri’s waist when he tried to stand.

  
     “Stay with me, Yuuri.” He pulled him back into bed, surprisingly competent in keeping him pinned to the bed when he was barely awake.

  
     “No, we’ll be late,” Yuuri wriggled away from his grip, tethered to the bed only by Victor’s firm grip on his wrist. “Come shower with me, Vitya,” he asked, hoping that second offer would be enticing enough to draw him out of bed. Instead, Victor let go of his wrist with a groan and let his arm drop to the mattress. Victor would never cease to surprise him.

     Yuuri let the warm water wake him up slowly, until the mirror was foggy and he felt alert enough to take Makkachin out and put together something for breakfast. His thoughts were loud today, he didn’t know what to expect of the Russian rink except that he hoped the few familiar faces that he expected would be welcoming to the foreigner who stole away their most talented rinkmate and friend. He took a few deep breaths, just focusing on how the water felt sliding over his shoulders and down his back. Then it was time to start the day.  
While he wasn’t a morning person by any means, it became clear early on in their relationship that if Yuuri didn’t wake up and prepare for the day, the day would not be prepared for at all, and he would probably end up being late to wherever he needed to go. He put the coffee on and pulled two protein bars out of the pantry and set them on the counter before coaxing Makkachin out of the bedroom. He clipped on the poodles leash and shrugged on his coat.  
“I’m taking Makkachin outside, Victor.” He didn’t get a response before he closed the door behind him, but he could only hope that the older man heard and at least started to drag himself out of bed.

  
     Yuuri unclipped Makkachin’s leash once he got back inside, just as Victor stumbled out of the bedroom, pulling a T-shirt over his head. “Coffee?” He asked, slurring slightly.

  
     “In the pot,” Yuuri replied, shrugging off his coat. “I already called the cab, so it should be here soon. Are you almost ready?”

  
     Victor took a few hasty gulps of his coffee and nodded before walking around the living room, then back into the bedroom. “Where’s my bag?”

  
     “How should I know?” Yuuri called back, pouring his own coffee into a thermos. He heard Victor mumble something, as he dug through his bedroom closet. “Where did you see it last?”

  
     Just as he finished the question, Victor pulled his duffle bag out from under his couch. “Got it. I just need my skates.” He darted into the bedroom again.

  
     Yuuri shrugged his coat on and stood by the door. His phone pinged. “Victor, the cab is here. We have to go.”

  
     The older man emerged from the bedroom moments later looking triumphant, his bag slung over his shoulder, halfway open. “Let’s go,” he said.


	2. On Ice

     They were greeted by Yakov yelling at Georgi for being late, though he gracefully transitioned to yelling at Victor as well.

  
     “Victor, you’re already ten months out of practice and now you’re going to be late? How are you going to be a good coach when you can barely be a good skater? You should be so lucky that Lilia agreed to take Yuuri as a ballet student since you’re too busy sleeping in to train him yourself.”

  
     Victor smiled sleepily, “It’s nice to see you too.”

  
     Yakov was beet red as he replied, “Go warm up, all of you.” Yuuri followed Victor and Georgi back to the locker room where Yurio was steeping into his skates.

  
     “You’re late, old man,” He snapped, not looking up as he tightened his laces.

  
     “Ah Yurio. Aren’t you a little late yourself?” Victor pulled out his skates. “How are you going to get a full practice in before school?”

  
     Yurio scoffed, “I’m 16 now, I dropped out. I won’t let you or the pig take any medals from me this year just because I have to waste time learning Math or whatever.”

  
     Victor smiled as he sat on the bench next to him to step into his own skates, “what a waste Yurio. What will you do with all your bronze medals this season if you can’t even count them?”

  
     Yuuri tied off his laces, “Victor, don’t be mean.”

  
     Yurio stood up, “Let him talk shit while he can.” He turned to look over his shoulder as he walked out to the rink, looking pointedly at Victor, “You’ll probably break your hip two weeks into training, geezer.”

  
     Victor only smiled, “If the only way for you to win is for me to drop out of the season, then perhaps you need to make some adjustments to your training schedule.”  
Yurio scoffed as he let the locker room door slam behind him.

     Practice began with Yakov lining up all of his skaters. Mila was there, playfully shoving Yuri who stilled looked just a sour as he had in the locker room. Georgi was there as well, along with a few other’s that Victor didn’t recognize. Junior’s who’d moved up in rank, he supposed. Yuuri trailed next to Victor as the gruff older man gave each skater their assignment in turn. Finally settling on Victor, “You don’t jump, spin, or stretch anything on my ice until you’re cleared by physio. Now, tell your skater what you want from him and go see the Doctor.” He turned away from them and Victor stood still for a moment, looking after him, before turning back to Yuuri.

  
     “Well it seems that I have an appointment to get to. Why don’t you run through your Free Skate until you feel more comfortable and then run some drills. Lilia should get you soon for ballet practice and then after Yakov releases me, we’ll work on your new choreography.” Yuuri nodded and pushed off on the ice to move away from him. “Ah, and Yuuri?”

  
     “Yes?”

  
     “I love you.” He smiled when Yuuri blushed, laughing to himself when he rolled his eyes and turned to continue to his chosen section of the rink. Victor watched as he skated in small, lazy circles before coming to a stop and taking his starting position for Yuri On Ice.

  
     “Victor,” Yakov shouted behind him. Victor hurried off the ice to see his coach, who wasted no time telling him off. “You stare at your boy like that on your own time. You skate and you coach in my rink, nothing else.” He kept speaking for a while after Victor stopped listening. His home rink felt alive again in a way he hadn’t seen it in years. Not since before his second Grand Prix win, when all the passion and excitement of the ice had ever so slightly began fading. Not all that much had actually changed. He’d only been gone for a year, after all. But, still. The new skaters who he didn’t recognize ran through their warm-ups with all the zeal he expected of Juniors fresh on the Senior circuit. They were good, he thought to himself. The girl might be better suited as an ice dancer. Her loops were a little wobbly, even though she was only doing triples, though anyone who practiced next to Mila was bound to look a bit rough. Even in practice, every movement was distinctly graceful, powerful even.

  
     Yurio looked much the same. He’d grown considerably in the past year. Gradually enough, this time, that he didn’t quite have to re-learn his jumps. He practiced dutifully throughout the off-season, like Yakov had instructed, so that now the additional two inches and the few extra pounds of lean muscle didn’t ruin his performance like it otherwise might have. He hadn’t quite mastered his longer hair, though. The sloppy braid was falling out already.

  
     “Victor, are you listening?” Victor blinked and Yakov was staring at him expectantly.

  
     “I, ah—“

  
     Yakov waved him off and walked away, apparently whatever he’d just said didn’t warrant repeating. “Go see the doctor. Come back to me when you’re cleared to skate.” He left before Victor could say anything in response.

     Victor sat idly on the exam table as the woman in front of him flipped through his chart, “You seem to be in remarkable shape for someone who’s been skating competitively for as long as you have.” She said finally.

  
     “Thank you,” Victor grinned, “I do my best, of course.”

  
      She continued, “Remarkable shape for a 28 year old with your history of injuries and athletic record is being able to skate at all.”

  
      Victor’s smile faltered, “I’ll still take that as a compliment.” He listened to her talk about the woes of your average aging athlete, as if he hadn’t spent every other night agonizing over whether or not his body could hold up to competitive skating since he injured his ACL just before the 2014 Winter Olympics. He was pushing it.

  
      “I know you received a well-check a few months ago, but I’d like to give you a more thorough examination with the consideration that you’ll be competing again.”

  
     “Of course.” Victor agreed.

  
     She started with a series of questions. “Are you experiencing any pain in your feet or ankles.”

  
     “No,” he replied

  
      “Knee pain,” she asked.

  
      “No,” he lied.

  
     She continued through the list and he continued giving calculated answers that he hoped would portray his true fitness without revealing so much as to have her take him off the ice. He knew he could still skate. She checked his blood pressure and his pulse, then had him run a mile on the treadmill and checked them again.

  
     Finally, she sighed, “Technically I can clear you for competition, but Mr. Nikiforov, you’re looking, at least, at a left knee replacement in the next five years if you continue and I can’t rule out what damage any further injuries could do.”

  
     “But I’m cleared to compete?” he asked, pointedly ignoring her warnings. He knew that already.

  
     “I really don’t recommend it, Mr. Nikiforov. I want you to understand what continuing to train like this could mean for you before you make any decisions.”

  
     “Of course.” She held his eyes for a moment longer. She could see that he’d already made his decision. He’d only been her patient for a few seasons, but it was clear that his reputation for not following his doctor’s recommendations preceded him.

  
      “You will come see me once a month throughout the season and the very second you feel any pain you get off the ice and have Yakov call me.”

  
      “Yes.” She was going to let him skate. “Yes, of course.” He cleared the last hurdle to returning with little grace, but as she handed him the small slip for Yakov to look over he felt that his chest would burst.

     Victor stepped into the rink with a grand flourish, sitting on the barrier next to wear Yakov stood. “Congratulations,” he said, “your best student has officially returned to the ice.” He waved around the piece of paper which Yakov quickly snatched out of his hand.

  
     “Did you actually read it?” He asked after a moment. Victor nodded. He could skate. What more did he need to know? “You’re very happy considering you’re not allowed any quads this season.”

  
      Victor’s smile fell as he snatched the paper back. In messy Cyrillic, the doctor had written a small note at the bottom of the form. No Quads, underlined twice. “I did three quads at the exhibition gala six months ago. Of course I can do quads.” He turned the form over and kept reading, hoping that there was some kind of addendum that he’d missed.

  
     “The doctor says no quads, you don’t do quads on my ice.” Yakov said simply. “You don’t need them to win, you never have, Vitya. Stop looking at me like the world has ended.”

  
     Victor looked across the ice at the other skaters. “It feels like it has.” He was only allowed to wallow for a moment before Yakov cuffed him on the back of his head.

  
      “You’re worse than Georgi, so dramatic. Don’t whine, practice. Show me your last free skate.” He said. “No quads.”

  
     Victor nodded and pulled his skates out from where he’d placed them under the bench before he went to see the doctor. He stepped onto the ice.  
  



	3. Off Ice

Yuuri all but collapsed onto the small couch in their living room as soon as he walked through the door. He’d had ballet with Lilia that morning and then Victor, still only allowed one on ice session per practice until he could prove to Yakov that he was fit enough to handle more, had noticed how tired Yuuri already was and promptly ran him into the ground with a grueling practice that kept them at the rink until after dark.

  
Victor headed straight for the fridge and Yuuri could hear him pulling out leftovers and plates, but just the thought of moving at all was completely exhausting. Victor blessedly left him to melt into the couch, still in sweat drenched workout clothes. Makkachin ran up to him almost immediately and licked at his exposed face. He pushed her away, but the salty sweat on his skin was apparently too enticing for her to ignore. He settled for dropping one arm over the side of the couch so she could lick at his hand instead of his face. It was significantly less bothersome than her licking at his cheeks and forehead, shoving her tongue up his nose and sweeping it across his lips. Makka was generally well behaved, but she had about as much tolerance for personal space as Victor. He heard the microwave beep, signaling that dinner was ready.

  
“Dinner’s ready,” Victor said, walking over to lean over the back of the couch, smiling. “How do you feel?”

  
“Tired,” Yuuri sighed, shifting to lay on his back, facing Victor. “Sore.”

  
Victor walked around and pulled him up by his arms, “that just means you had a good practice.” They took their seats at the small dining table and already Yuuri’s quads were burning as he sat, and Victor didn’t miss his wince. “Maybe a massage after dinner will help?” He offered.

  
Yuuri just nodded, taking a bite of the mixture of rice and vegetables. He suddenly realized that he was absolutely starving. His bowl was half empty by the time he looked up again, “How was your practice?”

  
Victor leaned back in his chair, “Yakov won’t let me do anything, Yuuri. It’s so boring.”  
“You know he just wants to be careful. Yurio said that you started having trouble the last season you skated.”

  
Victor scoffed, “Yurio is only worried that he’ll be getting silver or worse in half of his competitions since we’re both competing this year.”

  
Yuuri walked his empty bowl to the sink, “Coach Yakov said that your Doctor advised you not to compete at all.”

  
Victor looked up, “He told you?”

  
“He’s worried, Vitya. That and he doesn’t trust you to follow instructions.” Victor huffed as he walked his own bowl to the sink, rinsing it and putting it in his dishwasher behind Yuuri’s.

“You can’t blame him for that.”

  
“He’s treating me like I’m old.” Victor whined.

  
“You kind of are.” Yuuri replied, freezing immediately. “For a professional figure skater, I mean. Ah, that’s not what I meant.” His eyes were wide and he felt his face burning with embarrassment. Victor still hadn’t spoken, but was instead leaning against the counter with his eyes locked on the floor. “Victor—“

  
“Yuuri, I know that I’m old to be skating competitively.” He said slowly, “but to be reminded by my own fiancé, in our own home, after I’ve slaved for so long to make him dinner—“ he couldn’t completely keep his lips from curling into a smile.

  
Yuuri finally let out the breath he’d been holding. Victor was well known to be very dramatic. The issue was determining whether or not he was actually upset, or just being ridiculous. Right now Yuuri could see that Victor was only barely managing to keep a straight face.  
“And coached him to a silver medal in last season’s Grand Prix final—“

  
Yuuri finally decided to play along. “We stayed in that hotel in Barcelona for almost a week after the competition, I think I can say that I’ve paid your coaching fee.”

  
Victor gave him a look. The look. He grabbed him by the waist and pulled him close until their chests were pressed together, “You hurt my feelings Yuuri. What are you going do to earn my forgiveness?” He tilted Yuuri’s chin up slightly, so he could look him in the eye. “Any ideas?” He’d gone from silly and dramatic to that so quickly that Yuuri’s head was still spinning. Usually Victor only pulled that kind of turn around when he’d done something wrong.  
Yuuri cleared his throat and took a step back. “I will let you give me a massage.” He said, and Victor laughed.

  
Yuuri scrambled to think of something that would satisfy his fiancé but still required minimum work on his part. He was still exhausted. Eventually, as Victor’s gaze grew ever more expectant, he gave up. “I promise I’ll pay you back tomorrow.” He said, “Unless your fantasy is me falling asleep on top of you?”

  
Victor pulled him back in for a hug, “Ah, no. But I will hold you to your promise and I forgive you for calling me old.”

  
Yuuri leaned into his shoulder and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I know that’s a touchy subject for you.”

  
“No, it was an accident.” Victor assured him, “and now you owe me a favor. How could I be upset?”

  
Yuuri chuckled softly into his shoulder, not stepping away. “I can sleep here, right?”  
“Maybe no. Why don’t you get ready for bed. I have to work on a few things.” Victor gently steered him toward the master suite.

  
“Do I still get a massage if I fall asleep before you come to bed?” He asked, finally shedding his jacked and still damp workout shirt.

  
“I’ll try not to be too long.”

  
Yuuri dragged himself through his nighttime routine. He must have been moving even slower than he felt because Victor was stripped and entering their bathroom as he stepped out of the shower.

  
“I don’t suppose you’d want to stay a little longer.” Yuuri dried his hair and shook his head.  
“Not tonight, Vitya.” He dried himself off and stepped into his pajama pants as Victor stepped into the shower.

  
“Are you sure?” He asked, naked and wet, and frustratingly confident.

  
Yuuri just groaned and walked out, ignoring Victor’s pout. He didn’t feel like doing anything. He comforted himself with the knowledge that once Victor really started training again, he’d be just as exhausted when they got home. He didn’t want to think that he’d be disappointing Victor like this for the entire season.


	4. Next Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor discovers what it's like to practice past his prime and thinks about the upcoming season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter because life is hard.

Again, Vitya!” The command grated on him more than he thought it would. He’d run through one of his more recent short programs three times, and, each time, as he pulled himself upright into his finishing pose with a flourish, Yakov had nothing but critiques for him. He wasn’t flexible enough. His transitions were too sloppy, he couldn’t land a single jump in the second half of his program that he didn’t step out of. Victor knew that Yakov was right to drill him until he could, at the very last, prove that he could perform one routine to the standard he’d always set for himself. He also knew that he was tired, that his right ankle was throbbing, and that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could maintain the appearance of grace and ease that the routine required while he was panting so heavily. He nodded tersely and took a deep breath before taking his starting position. 

He was an athlete and a highly decorated one at that. He was no stranger to hard work. Victor reminded himself of this over and over again throughout practice. It had never been this hard before. He’d always just done. He did what he could, took critiques and adjusted accordingly. Now? Not so much. 

“Take a break, Victor.” Yakov called, “Be back in 15.” Victor watched as he stalked off into his office and skated over to the boards, grabbing his phone which he’d set on top of the barrier hours before. Yuuri was at home, taking full advantage of his off day, it seemed because he’d texted “awake” at 10am, and then a few pictures of empty boxes and filled shelves as he unpacked his things and ingratiated himself into Victor’s apartment more than he had with his mere presence. Victor smiled and tapped out a quick reply. 

He stepped off the ice and was welcomed to the side of the rink with a shooting pain up through his thigh all the way to his ass. He needed to stretch more. His muscles protested violently as he sat on the bench and grabbed his water bottle. He needed to stretch a lot more. 

Choreography for his upcoming season spun through his mind’s eye. Something gentle and adoring and so obviously for Yuuri that he was genuinely anticipating Yakov to roll his eyes when he told him about it. Any teasing would be worth it for sure. It would be beautiful. It was for Yuuri, so it had to be. However, Victor hadn’t thought much about Yuuri’s upcoming programs, not wanting to be presumptuous. He’d ask him about a theme tonight, he decided. 

His first season had been on love and had, decidedly, been for Victor. And that was before they moved in together. Now, they were engaged, and doing all sorts of domestic nonsense like cooking and cleaning together, shopping for groceries even though Victor was largely hopeless without an incredibly specific list. Victor knew that he wanted his season dedicated to Yuuri, but maybe Yuuri deserved to skate a season dedicated to him. Even his free skate had been largely dedicated to those who’d helped him, and not the work he’d done, or the obstacles he’d overcome by sheer force of will. Victor thinks that he will suggest Strength, or Perseverance, maybe something lighter. 

He was decided on one thing, Yuuri should have a fun season, one that truly fits him. There was value in pushing boundaries for sure. But for Yuuri, being relaxed, and genuinely full of joy on the ice despite the audience, would surely surprise everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm YOI trash and this is my dump.


End file.
